Chapter 2: Part 1

I sort of remember that New Year's Eve. If I remember right, I spent it with Cyrus and Carlo. Two of the cousins I always treasured. I think this is the year we stayed at a hotel, but I can't be extremely certain.

I'm more or less sure that I remember this year being the year I spent with my cousins. Cyrus was hated by our uncle. He has a history, and it wasn't so pretty. He lived in Pampanga for the most of his life, and he was somewhat neglected there. Let me tell his story.

He didn't grow up with us. He grew up in the province, where we didn't know what he was up to. Growing, I remember seeing him only a couple of times. But nonetheless, we all know the story.

Their mom left them at their young ages, and they didn't really know her. They lived with their dad for a short time, however, they were taken in by my grandfather, and since then, he shouldered a lot of the expense for having to raise them. That was until, Aunt Christine, my uncle's ex-girlfriend, took Cyrus and raised him there.

However, blood is thicker than water. Aunt Christine had her own family to provide for, thus, Cyrus wasn't given the proper attention as a child, and I assume than since then, he didn't really grow up right. He was a mess going through his latter years. So, for the most of his teen years, he spent with our family. Aunt Christine sent her back because he was being a hard-head. Life didn't change much for Cyrus in the city. It may have even gotten worse.

I remember him doing a lot of things wrong. He probably just wants the attention. I remember him taking my cousin's GameBoy. I remember the times he would come to class late, even if we brought him early. I even remember the time he snuck a cigarette. I remember the times he wouldn't come home. This led to a lot of things. He was beaten up, constantly screamed at. He went through things, he bore profanities, punches, and hits, he even had a black-eye once. I never knew how he could have taken all that, and still come out smiling in front of our uncle. A sly smile, while looking at his feet. It was as if he enjoyed the beatings, and all the heart-ache.

I would understand though. He never really knew his mother, he didn't grow up with his father. Maybe he actually liked being yelled at, maybe it made him feel like he was cared for. After all, the silence of no father screaming at you is deafening, especially for a growing child. A child needs a dad and a mom to grow up better. I can only imagine what it was like for Cyrus. I don't think I'll ever forget that smile, when I saw him take a hit from my uncle. The smile he had as he nursed the black eye.

Going back to the past. He studied in a smaller school, near my own, somewhere along Katipunan Avenue. HAMS. I was with my father and Cyrus when he was enrolled. He was never there when we'd pick him up. He would always come home late in a taxi cab. I don't know where he went, we were always worried. And my worry was two-fold. One, because of his safety, and two, because what my uncle and grandma have to say again. Poor Cyrus. I wish he'd just grown up better, even slightly. It would've been better for him...

If that wasn't troublesome enough... His brother, Carlo, was somehow similar...